


Wondering Fire

by 123grimmcjreaper



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alchemist Pidge (Voltron), Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Centaur Hunk (Voltron), Coran Is Allura's Assistant, Galra Keith (Voltron), M/M, Multi, Protective Keith (Voltron), Shaman Allura (Voltron), Water Sprite Lance (Voltron), Witch Keith (Voltron), Wolf Shiro (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2018-09-21 08:19:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9539471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/123grimmcjreaper/pseuds/123grimmcjreaper
Summary: Fed up with the racism and hypocrisy of Earth Town, Fire Witch Keith sets out on a journey to the vast and dangerous wilds of Galaxy, to find a place where he could call home.On his journey he will find a puppy thats shaped just like a wolf, an infuriating Sprite with no respect for boundaries, a worrying Centaur who deserves a fucking medal, and an Alchemist who seriously needs to stay out of his personal business.If he can servive all this chaos then he'll be more than happy for the rest of his life.But he won't regret it. He might find love, friendship, and a family out of this.If he doesn't kill them first.





	1. Good Bye Cruel World! You Suck

**Author's Note:**

> I got bored. Sue me.

"Get it!"

"Kill it dead!"

"Make sure it doesn't get away!"

These words were shouted out at him often by the people. Guards chasing him around the market place and through the back allyways to the sewers, hoping to corner him. Keith is used to this stupidity. He is used to going through town with his ears and tail hidden under his hat and trousers.

He is used to the racism, hypocrisy and abuse of the humans of Earth Town. The citizens didn't take too kindy to, well, anything that wasn't remotely human.

Why, you ask? For Keith is half Galran. A ferocious race with large cat or chinchilla ears, purple skin and long sharp talons replacing their finger tips.

For Keith, the Galra in his blood was not as obvious than on a pure-bred. He has large fluffy cat ears, a long fluffy tail that was as long as his height, and his talons replaced his finger and toe nails and the purple stained only his arms and legs.

The city was a filthy, dirty and dusty utopia for the rich, famous, politicians and Barons. Or in other words, thieves, murderers, and liers. The cylindrical buildings of the city poorly attempted to touch the sky, crumbling halfway down at the agony of their own weight. Most were sloping to one side, almost touching their neighbors, so if one were accused of being a thief on the run from certain blood thirsty guards then the advantage was to the accused, thankfully.

So that basically summed up how our fair Fire Witch was doing, now to how the hell will he get out of this?

Four guards. Not something he was gonna mess with. As Keith leaped and bounded across the rolling sea of roof tops like a red and black cat, he swiped a finger along the gaps between buildings and sent a line of fire that burst up into a great wall as if erupting from the hottest circles of hell.

Two guards thought it would be a  _fantastic idea_ to jump into the flaming wall just before it reaches well above their heads.

They didn't make it.

The screaming of pure agony made Keith's ears burn. As much as he hates this city and its people, he hates killing. It keeps him up at night, the screams and phantom pains leaving him sweaty and shaking, scared. It reminds him of a time where he was loved, glowing with his mother and father right before they were ripped away from him, leaving nothing but tears and blood staining the dirt as his last family member was dragged away for his execution.

In the years of living on the abandoned streets of Earth he remembered that he could channel all his emotions into a great power, that came out in a gust of burning fire. At first he learned this technique from his father, and he learned healing from his mother. His healing fire was not at as great as his burning fire, but it helps when he's injured after a trip through the market.

He was so close to the outer wall, his lungs were burning, his feet were aching, sending painful vibrations up his legs and making him stagger a bit. Three more rooftops and he'll be free! The last roof was furthest from the wall.

With a powerful leap, with a jetstream of fire to boost him up, he soared over the wall.

What he didn't think about, was how was he going to land?


	2. Hello Dangerous Wilds! Fair Warning, I Don't Taste Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a painful descend into the Wilds of Galaxy, from this point out, Keith is on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy hell in a kitkat, its been waaay too long for updates. So. A new chapter. Kinda proud of myself. Just a bit.
> 
> Ok no. Thats a filthy lie.
> 
> Ok so I know there wasn't much about Keith's history, but trust me they will come up, just as flashbacks though, sorry.

You see, Earth Town was built in the center of a great desert, a kilometer or so away from a long line of mountains that separated the city from the vast, green plains and forests of the Galaxy Wilds that surrounded the entire desert itself outside the ring of mountains. From what Keith heard from surviving travelers, Galaxy is a beautiful place of a twisted paradise. Wolves, Lions and many creatures of magic ruled the place, and only the bravest of warriors can enter the check point city of Altea before continuing into the vast unknown.

_If_ , you can make it past the mountain barrier.

The travelers, more poachers, spoke of wild ferocious beasts and blood-thirsty savages that lurked about in the shadows, preying on anyone that dared to climb into their territory.

Keith thought the travelers idiots for even going near the base of the mountain divide, and from the nasty way they looked at the mountains and the scars and still healing wounds they collected, he'd say they got what they deserved.

Keith landed hard into the sturdy branches of a towering Baobab growing just outside the city wall, tumbling just on the ends of the branches where they caught on his clothes so he dangled like a ragdoll, and he might've sprained his left ankle upon impact. An electric bolt charged up from the joint and gripped hard on his thigh, causing him to snarl at the pain.

The remaining guards had arrows knocked to their bows. In that moment of time Keith's heart stopped, he could see the wicked arrow heads pointed at him, the barbed points reflecting the harsh sunlight, then he couldn't see them at all. In fact, he felt lighter, lighter than what he used to feel. Almost like he was falling.

NO. Wait.

He _is_  falling.

This is gonna hurt.

Slamming into wide branches and most likely braking various important bones on the way down, he was caught on his pack straps that tangled on extended sprouts, Keith almost choked from the sudden force. Heart racing so fast against his flaming ribcage he would've vomited if it weren't for the dizzying site of that long, _long,_ drop.

Keith was never a big fan of heights, not so much to feel like throwing up his organs from nerves at the sheer distance from his hanging perch to solid ground, but enough to feel at least concerned about not wanting to fall and have his skull caved in. With whatever energy he had left, reached up and grasped the sturdy sprouts and heaved himself up, thanking his lucky stars that the massive branch could hold his weight easily. He leaned heavily on the trunk, getting long breaths in his lungs and letting brief moments of relief and throbbing fire eating away in his wounds catch up to him. It the distance he could hear the furious shouting and colourful profanities of the guards, but it felt like white noise thrumming in the back of his neck and skull, but while he seemed to be safe temperarly, he needed to heal himself enough to climb the rest of the way down.

Those mountains were the only thing between him and freedom. He'll die before he even thinks briefly about ever going back to Earth Town.

He snagged his pack and yanked out a pair of green marble pebbles, with sweat running rivulets down his temples and forehead from keeping the pain coursing through his veins at bay, with a pebble in each hand he slammed them together and they cracked like eggs in his purple palms, dissolving into light green sparks zapping about in the air mixing with green gas as they coated his hands. Keith held his palms upwards and waited impatiently. There are rare occurrences where the healing fire won't ignite, leaving him to pant and heave and bleed in agony after a particular beating from fellow street rats while they would take whatever he  _supposedly_ stole from unsuspecting merchants.

More sparks snapped and crackled where the dusty gas coated his hands, and a second later flames of grassy green engulfed his hands, lighting up the man's sharp features in a warm glow. Sighing in relief he rubbed the flames where it hurt the most, leaving trails of flames crackling in his wake, letting the warmth of sweet relief swallow him in a drug like trance.

The stones where to enhance the healing fire and ignite the sparks properly. He remembered his mother rolling her eyes at him from coming home from a fight with the other kids, and she would just snap her fingers and  _poof!_ Magic fire in an instant, ready to fix up his cuts and bruises and leave him dizzy and dopily happy.

It made him smile a bit. He has her memories in this blessed fire, and he was content with that.

His father he can remember in his burning fire, who would literally soak up any fires Keith would accidentally set and inhale them through his nose, and let it out the same way out in the open air safely away from anything flammable. His father was a kind man, a good man. He loved his family and was understanding and reasonable at the best times. Keith missed them both. And with his fires, they would still be with him.

The downside of the healing fire is that it takes a few minutes to wake from his drug induced daze, the trance is so he can't feel the pain of tendons, organ tissue and bones knitting back together. And minutes is time he can't afford to lose.

Keith snapped out of his daze, pulled on his pack and used his talons to descend down the tree's trunk. Arrows buried themselves in the wood centermetres from from Keith's ears, sending ringing vibrations down his ear canals to echo through his brain. He gritted his teeth and scrambled from branch to branch. He was just past half way when arrows whizzed through the air and stabbed into the tree above his head and below his feet. Panic bubbled in his stomach at how close those arrows were to skinning his face and ears. He stared down the line of arrow shafts jutting out of the tree bark like a ladder.

Using the makeshift ladder to his obvious advantage, he landed a cat and bolted in the direction of the mountain line, the ache in his bruised places becoming more prominent as his feet eat up the meters. Lungs on fire and pads of his feet are  _very_ close to being ripped off, he slowed to an exhausted jog until he collapsed on the warm dry ground, greedily heaving in mouthfuls of air. Slowly, he took off his pack and rolled over to face the sky. Clouds of fluffy white highlighted with warm gold of the setting suns, they stretched out over the mountain tops and blanketed the forbidding towers of Earth Town. 

_Earth Town._ It hit him like a hammer to the anvil. He was  _out._ Far enough to discourage anyone from following him (as if they ever would), but not close enough to his destination.

Barely half way, dang it.

But still. He was out. And that was better than anything else at this moment, and he smiled for what feels like the first time in too many years. He'll probably die before he makes it half way up the mountains but he doesn't care anymore.

Freedom at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We will meet our favorite muscular cinnamon roll next chappy don't worry.


	3. Hello Dangerous Wilds! Fair Warning, I Don't Taste Nice Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mountains, Wolves, Forests oh my! Finally a free man with no sense of responsibility or direction whatsoever, its just all about moving forward now.

_The air was thick and stifling, he could feel it choking him, filling his lungs until there was nothing left to invade. It was too bright, there was nothing he could see but feel as if his eyes were being devoured by the sun, not a shred of shadow to slice the brightness before him, no mercy, no hesitation, just pure, blinding torture. The ground was shaking beneath him, it wasn't an earthquake, it was slow but gentle, and he could feel soft fur tangled in his hands and tickling his nose. How odd, he thought, it felt like he was lying in a cloud. Except, did clouds always smell like dog fur?_

The Galra girl was sniffing, her nose twitching slightly. At first she was whimpering, shaking and crying softly, laying spread eagle out in the open at least a half kilometer away from Earth Town's towering walls. Covered in dust and dried sweat it was a miracle she wasn't eaten on site by some other monster skulking about in whatever pit it cowers in.

They were close to the border. Unlike what humans believe, there's a hidden pass that goes right through the mountains, cloaked in a powerful glamour that not even the most experienced warlock could decipher it.

Tall, imposing, intimidating.That's what the mountain divide can be described in basics. If Shiro hurried, they could out the other side of the pass in under half an hour, but he had to be careful, the Galra draped along his back had a heavy blade tied to her hip, along with a small shabby wood shield, and judging by length and width of the handmade scabbard, it must be a powerful weapon. He didn't know what in Goddess's name made him save the girl, and a Galra no less, but he felt deep in his heart that she's good, innocent. After somehow escaping the clutches of the Empire, the Wolf wondered aimlessly all across Galaxy, no destination and no purpose in mind.

But the wars of Zarkon's rein for power ended years ago, along with the tyrant himself and his mages and 'pets'. With the refugees safe from the madness of a cowardly leader, and the City of Altea was taken back to the better hands of Altean royalty, but unfortunately, most Alteans refused to accept the Galra into their city, for fear of having war starting all over again. And there are those few Alteans who take their fear too far.

The sun was completely gone. Now it was just a black and blue sheet smeared with a faint dusting of the milky way, amplified by the bright twinkling of stars. They entered the pass and were properly hidden from site and sense. The pass was a long straight gorge road with towering cliffs on either side, casting haunting shadows and hindering anyone else blind, but Shiro can see well in the dark. The Galra on his back shifted and let out a long growling noise that would scare a full grown Lion. The weight shifted to the center of his back, he didn't stop moving, no wanting to startle his passenger into decapitating him. The tiny ring of metal on metal made his ears twitch in its direction. Strange. He didn't feel the cold press of steel on his throat.

The pained shriek of some sort of devil like creature and the cringing  _shlick!_ of steel through flesh was what the wolf didn't expect. He whirled around and his jaw dropped.

The Galra was glaring down at him with her sword pointed upwards, a still Devilmite impaled on the blade, its blood flowing freely and it splattered when the girl threw the carcass away, the moon rising behind her making her look like a ferocious warrior queen, beautiful and deadly. A Devilmite is a small, red Goblin-like creature that are similar to the Incubi and Sucubi, but instead of just feeding on the sexual energy of mortals, they keep them as slaves for their amusement. But kill one, the swarm will take vengeance on those responsible.

Like now.

She snapped her head in the direction of a teeth grinding screech that tore into the still air, followed many, many,  _many_ more throats letting out the ear-splitting sound wave. Above the edge of the cliff top rose a dark, misshapen cloud of bat like creatures making a shrieking and chittering sound that seemed to be getting louder. Her teeth looked more sharp and dangerous than Shiro's own deadly maw, "Move!" She shouted at him, and without thinking he obeyed, sprinting at a break-neck pace down the pass. The Galra's voice was a deep rough masculine baritone that made Shiro feel slightly guilty at referring them to a female.

The Galra was a  _He._

Shiro glanced behind him to see an enormous swarm of bloodthirsty Devilmites diving straight for them, and it almost made him stop and stare in pure horror, but he didn't have a chance to do so, the boy kicked his sides like he would a horse, and snarled "Do not stop running!" He stared back at the oncoming monsters, his shield and sword ready to shed blood. Those demons who caught up to the pair were sliced down instantly, their blood and bodies flying everywhere in their wake. Shiro's Wolf fur was bigger than a horse, and his long legs had gotten them half way through the gorge, then a shifting of weight on his back made him peek over his shoulder. His passenger was standing up with balance to rival a ballet dancer, sword slicing and tearing through the small but agile bodies of the monsters like a hot knife through butter, their innards spewing in every direction after each vicious strike. His sword work was expert and precise, he never missed a target and his stance never faltered even though he was standing on the back of a huge galloping wolf.

Shiro was panting in exhaustion, when looked up and saw the end of the gorge, hope filled his heart and his steps became lighter with new energy. Unknowingly, a lucky Devilmite got close to Shiro's hind leg and launched itself at it, burying its sharp teeth deep in the flesh and muscle. With a pained howl the Wolf stumbled and fell, knocking the Galra off balance and sending them both to the ground. Sparks of pain ripped through his flesh and had him whimpering and snarling, Shiro bit the head of his attacker, snapped it from its neck and tore it from his injured limb, unfortunately intensifying his agony. Black spots started popping in his vision, the venom from the bite now coursing through his bloodstream and making him woozy and helpless. Before his world faded to black, a bright, orange light lit up the gorge, and his last thought was, ' _I hope he made it.'_

 

_..._

 

Peace. Shiro hadn't felt that in a long time. After he escaped from the Empire, it was like, peace was wiped from his memory, leaving only pain and despair. But now, he feels it. That, sense of lightness and tranquility, he felt like he was a feather in a soft warm breeze. He woke slowly to the spiced aroma of cooking meat tickling his sensitive nose and the dull throb in his hind leg. Soft sunlight greeted his blurry vision, he sat up gingerly, wondering what the ever loving _hell_ happened to him. With surprise, he saw that he was lying in a shaded part of a clearing of forest, a clear wide stream flowing over smooth rocks and pebbles some meters away to his right, on what appears to be a tattered but soft red blanket. In front of him was a lit fire under a three foot tall rabbit skewered, roasting on a spit, it made his mouth water and his belly growl. Odd, but where was the Galra? If he set this camp, then he shouldn't be too far away. A silhouette emerged from the tree line, and Shiro squinted for a better look, the figure appeared to be carrying something. Shiro's hackles rose, a warning growl rumbling deep in his throat at the intruder. The figure perked up at the noise, and... waved? Shiro cocked his head in confusion. Normally anyone would bolt the other way at the sound, but it seemed the newcomer had no fear and continued to come closer to the camp.

Its the Galra. And the thing he was carrying was a large sack slung over one shoulder and a smaller one tied to his belt. No that Shiro could see him in better light, the air seemed to have completely disappeared from his lungs. The boy-no,  _man,_ was beautiful, deadly gorgeous with a tender edge. Angular jaw, sharp chin, a pixie-ish nose, razor sharp cheekbones, and expressive almond shaped eyes with the darkest, purest shade of violet he'd ever seen, and they sparkled with happiness when they locked gazes. Curved hips and a tiny waist that made the Wolf blush brightly under his dark fur. Dressed in tight trousers, a short loose shirt with the sleeves rolled up and button up vest that exposed his naval, the man was just wonderful to look at, and his  _smile!_   If Shiro died and went to Heaven with this lovely creature he certainly isn't complaining. The man placed the sack on the grass and sat beside it, giving Shiro comfortable space to move freely. His smile was soft and concerned, "I am glad you are awake, you have been asleep for most of the day" he said, _'Most of the day?'_ He frowned, _'But why does my leg not hurt so bad now?'_  The man gestured to the Wolf's leg, which was neatly bandaged, along with his right front leg. Shiro looked at him questionably, and the man blushed in embarrassment, "The venom was very strong, I had to suck most of it out before I could treat it properly," he rubbed his bicep, pretty eyes locked on the grass. "And you're right paw looked painful, too, so I treated that as well," he finished weakly with a sheepish smile. Shiro looked down at his right paw, where Empire markings stained his skin and fur with silver and purple climbed from his ankle to just below his shoulder, was wrapped snug in white cloth. No pain stabbed his nerves and muscles, just normal, good feeling that was supposed to be in a limb.

That... was actually the nicest thing that's ever happened to him in a long while. But why?

The other man seemed to pick up the question, he looked Shiro dead in the eye, his dark irises serious and sharp, "It was the least I could do to return the favor," that only confused the Wolf more, "Well, aside from bringing me into a chasm of vicious Devilmites," Shiro's ears drooped in rueful guilt at the memory, but the hard look was gone and replaced with an amused little smirk, "You brought me to Galaxy, the farthest anyone in Earth Town has ventured, ever!" he bounced in child-like excitement, the smile growing joyous and grateful, Shiro's tail wagged against his say so at the happiness he could sniff from the man.

The man leaned forward, his thigh length black hair tumbled around his young face and thin shoulders artfully. He opened his mouth to say something but he hesitated, not sure how to go about it. He breathed deeply, "If I may," he began, "I could remove your bandages, then you can eat," when Shiro gave a slow nod, the Galra moved cautiously closer to the Wolf, gently unwrapping the hind paw first, and smiled proudly to himself. The wound had knitted nicely, no signs of infection from the venom, leaving only feint scars hidden under the newly grown fur that no one will ever notice. He moved on to the front paw, repeating the action with gentle care, making sure not to touch the massive paw too much. Shiro looked at his revealed leg in astonishment. In place of the sickly purple that ran up like ugly veins, was a handsome shimmering onyx. When he rotated his wrist the pain had completely disappeared. His long fluffy tail was wagging so hard in joy that he pounced on the man who yelped in surprise, licking his face with vigor and covering it with slimy spit. The man was laughing at the slimy assault on his face, he was glad the enormous canine was happy and healed. "Hahahahaha! Alright, alright! You're happy now I get it-" he spat a few times on the ground and groaned with playful disgust, "My mouth was open!" He swatted at the Wolf's face, "Okay! Okay, you're welcome! Now let me up!" Shiro complied, panting with his tongue rolled out the side of his mouth, tail wagging furiously. The man wiped his soaked face and patted the beast's thick mane fondly.

Later that night, the man opened the sack and rabbit carcasses similar to the one slow roasting, skinned and gutted, greeted Shiro's site. They cooked and ate the meat slowly, and while the man ate a mere three, Shiro ate a fair portion of the rest. After dinner, they rested together on the blanket(at Shiro's insistence) and watched the stars while the man, he introduced himself as Keith, pointed out the constellations. Their names, origins, stories and meanings, that his favorite was the Leo, and the Wolf soaked up the information like a dry sponge. He even talked a little about himself. His sword's name was _Ppalgang, bukda_ , or Red, in English. He was a street rat in Earth Town in the Asia district of Korea and wanted out,( well that explained why he was passed out in the desert). He learned to fight from an old crazy beggar that took residence in Earth Town's underground sewers. He learned to hunt from his father, and to heal from his mother. He didn't speak much of his parents, but Shiro could see in his pretty eyes that he missed them dearly. After a while, Keith fell asleep, curled into the warmth of the Wolf's belly. Shiro watched him for a while, fascinated by his life and perspective, how he endeared it all and how he survived to get by. Shiro wanted to know more about him. But for now, they will sleep. That night, Shiro had no nightmares. Just a long, dreamless sleep, with the tell tale snoring of the Galra beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this chapter was to your satisfaction my dear butterflies.


	4. Thank You... For Staying I Mean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traveling, Wolves, and friendship oh my! It's time for these two cuties to mosey on out of the woods and into the better parts of Galaxy! With so much to see and do, not a moment goes by as boring! (It's a filthy lie. It's pretty boring.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy that so many people like this inevitable train wreck. I don't know where it's gonna go or how it'll end, but I'm glad I got you guys to cheer me on.
> 
> I just found out that I spelt "Wandering" wrong I CAN'T.  
> There's something seriously wrong with me.

The sun rose over the tree tops, shining it's warm light on the snoozing pair. Keith hiccuped mid-snore and groaned in dismay, the light fell on his face and brightened behind his eyelids, disturbing his sleep. He rolled over and snuggled deeper into the soft warm fur. The Wolf was on his back, paws in the air and mouth wide open with drool slipping off his lolling tongue, whiskers twitching.

_The air lessened it's intensity in his lungs. Letting him breath for once. He was warm, too, comfortable and content._

The Wolf stretched out his limbs, joints cracking back into place, muscles figuring out they exist. He looked to the side and internally squealed at Keith curled up like a kitten would beside the mother cat. Cute was an understatement.

_He seemed to be floating on clouds. It was dark, like the bruised colours of the night sky without the stars. The cloud he was lying on was white mist drifting in and out of reality. This dimension was calming, it soothed the ache in his bones and the lightning crackling in the front of his brain._

The snoring emitting from the Galra's open lips was quite but deep and rough, rumbling deep from his throat in time with his steady breathing. Rhythmic and strong. Shiro noticed that he has faint frown lines between his dark brows, barely noticeable now that he's asleep. _I'm not surprised, living like a rat for most of his life is nothing to smile about._ His ear twitched. Keith groggily sat up and stretched out the kinks, loud snapping sounds echoed throughout the the clearing and sending Shiro's fur on end. Grumbling viciously in Korean Keith got to his feet and kicked dirt into the fire, taking the small sack and pulling out rabbit skins, he grabbed his pack from beside his sword and shield, and pulled out a needle and a wheel of string before unsheathing his dagger.

Opening the flap of his pack Keith turned it up side down and let the contents fall out. Pure white furs spilled out and were arranged in a neat pile. Shiro watched curiously as the man sliced and stitched the furs together in practiced ease, never faltering, always moving, smooth unhurried movements, taking his time to perfect the craft. The Wolf got to his paws and trotted to where the Galra worked, plopping on his haunches and leaning in close over a slim shoulder. Keith chuckled, shaking his head fondly as the Wolf sniffed in curiosity next to his face.

You must be wondering what had Keith so familiar with the great creature, and so early on in the adventure too.

Well, contrary to popular belief, Wolfmen are sacred beings that live with the spirits of Man and Wolf, working together in a unit that depends on the balance between intellectual and bestial. while Werewolves are a singular being with no balance and turn out in a grotesque form that kill anything in their way, scared and in pain and unable to do anything about it, just a vicious and hateful husk of what they used to be.

But this one, he is a mix of the two, and he could've done the same thing, but while Keith practically poured out most of his life story to a stranger, he could see the suffering and anguish in those incredible grey eyes, lost and scared in a world still healing it's wounds and taking back promises, regretting what it could never be when might've been. But it didn't try, so it's people payed the consequences.

The way the Wolf walked and acted was a fair indicator of previous humanship, wobbling slightly on his legs like a new born faun, ears twitching in every direction uncontrollably, nostrils flaring at new smells, it was subtle but not to Keith. In many ways, the Galra can relate to the creature.

They both saw and felt things they can never forget, no matter how much they wanted to. He could tell the beast did not trust him completely, and Keith didn't expect him too either. After this, they will go their separate ways, and most likely never seeing each other again.

A shame, really, the Wolf was a handsome animal. Jet black with a grey underside running from his chin to the end of his long and fluffy tail, a thick pure white lock hanging down between his beautiful eyes, and a scar slashed across the bridge of his snout.

Pure hard muscle rippled under the thick shaggy coat, many scars striking in his flesh, making patches in the fur, a sign of many battles won and too much blood shed for survival.

Keith held up his creation. A large, simple vest, not enough to keep the beast warm, but it would be a momento. Now all it needed was buttons. He looked around the campsite, but saw nothing useful. He sighed, all there was were trees, boulders, bushes, a stream, grass and-

A short black tree trunk peeked out of the brush, withered and dead with not a speck of green to be seen. It's branches were thin and twisted in painful angles to the point it looked like a toddler's charred carcass. 

Fire Oak.

Keith forgot he was staring openly at the trunk until a huge wet nose bumped into his cheek brought him back. He'll apologize later, "Do you know what that is?" He pointed a slim talon at the misshapen trunk. The Wolf shook his large head in a 'no'.

Keith went on to explaining, "That trunk is one of the few sacred trees left that are used for lighter and stronger armor called Fire Oak," the Wolf's ears perked up in curiosity, "Many blacksmiths walked for years trying to find these very trees, masters and apprentices alike were lost in the journey for these incredible plants, but none found any because they were chopped down for their bark," the man's fluffy ears drooped, cupid bow lips pressed in a frustrated line, "The bark has a potent sap that lasts longer than reptile venom," the Wolf cokes his head in confusion and whined at him to continue.

The Galra gritted his fangs, but barely managed to calm his voice, "The sap was normally used for remedies, poisons, ink, useful things. But now," Keith looked long at the grass gripped in his sharp talons, "Its used as make up for the nobles, the trees were uprooted and taken away from their sacred soil and before long, the tree would wither and die, and no one would care." The man tore out the grass in his anger.

Realization dawned on the Wolf, his head swimming with rage and sadness and despair, but when he looked at the hopeless anger in Keith's pretty violet eyes, all he could feel was the urge to comfort, to protect and reassure, but he doesn't know if he could speak in his full fur.

But how did Keith know of this information? The man in question must've seen him thinking, and said with a bitter smirk, "I was a slave for a noble back in Earth Town," the quirk in his lips was sad, while his eyes burned with silent rage, "The Alchemist would babble at me for not getting the proper amount of supplies or for mixing up various reagents, he told me the story of the Fire Oak and how the nobles would send out hunting parties for their bark," Keith turned to Shiro, "Fire Oaks are scattered throughout the Wilds, they represent the ferocity and passion of the Fire Paladin, and if handled correctly, the sap can be made into a special ink that you can use for tattoos without needing to disinfect the needle, because the sap is so hot that it would burn anything it touches worse than fire itself," the Wolf's eyes sparkled in wonder.

Keith sighed in defeat, "But it doesn't matter now," he got up with the vest in hand and stalked over to the tree, he circled it slowly, moving branches to cover the stump properly, making sure no one would find it until it grew fifteen meters well above tree level, strong and proud and unmovable. Once Keith was satisfied with the coverage he walked back to the enormous Wolf.

Shiro sniffed a sour twist of hesitance emitting from the beautiful man, who scrunched up the mass of white fur in his hands.

He held up the vest for the Wolf to inspect, "I am not sure if it will fit you well, but it's all I can do for you for saving me the other day," the piece of clothing was a bit crude, with many patches and stitches showing, but it was simple and made with care, and Shiro was sure to treasure it in the future.

Slowly, carefully, Keith helped the Wolf into the vest. Slipping the arm holes over the large paws, careful not to jostle the silver leg, they fitted the vest snug and secure across Shiro's broad back and shoulders. _'_ _The vest fits nicely_ , _'_ Keith thought appreciatively as he ran his fingers through the white furs.

The Wolf was spinning around and making curious whines and chuffs at the article, before bounding over to the stream, staring intensely at his reflection, yipping and squeaking* in excitement. Shiro was so happy, Keith was so nice and his eyes understood him, it was like they knew each other for years.

He turned to the Galra to thank him, but the site of him folding his blanket and placing it on the ground made the Wolf pause in confusion, the man picked up whats left of the rabbit furs and stuffing them in the sack.

Keith didn't want to leave the other behind, but the travel to Altea will at least take a couple of days and the creature would have better things to do than to get roped into his crazy scheme. He isn't going inside the pearly city, he isn't fond of himself but he isn't suicidal. He heard many stories of Galra who gets too close to Altea's gates.

Struck by a flyimg axe to the head. Didn't even get to explain her presence. Killed instantly.

No. He isn't going anywhere near the gates. He's going under it. His maps maybe really outdated, but they would have to do until he hits a Galra tolerant settlement. And it could take weeks. The Wolf doesn't need to get caught up with a petty trouble maker. He deserves to be free, not bound by him. He finished cleaning up the camp, all he needs in the small sack and his pack.

Keith faced the creature, giving his ear a soft fondle. "This is where we part ways, friend. I hope next we meet will be under better circumstances." The animal whined with sadness, ears drooping and his head low. Keith scritched the fluffy cheek with a fond smile and walked away, his tail trailing the ground sadly behind him, his heart aching every step further away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sir Lancelot rides his obnoxious steed into the next chapter fair humans of the realm! Bare your eyes in caution for he might greet his facial features into that of a tree. Or his foot. Depends. *I shit you not humans, my dog whines so high its almost like he's squeaking and he does this EVERY FUCKING TIME when my mum pulls up in the driveway. It was cute after a couples years but now it's like nails on a chalkboard. Its been five years we've had him, he's a complete mammy's boy.


	5. Dang It Lance Not Again!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith's helpful inner monologue, an irritating Sprite, an anxious Center, and a wonderful friend returns.

_Once upon a time, in the year of 2017, Alteans visited Earth._

_In the year of 2020, the Galra followed._

_Two years later, Earth was a battle field._

_By 2040, Human settlements were uprooted and set ablaze._

_Ten thousand years later, nature had long since taken back what was once hers alone._

_Buildings and houses and streets were overrun with vegetation, spreading on for miles and miles until Earth finally as beautiful and majestic before the Human's evolution. The animals evolved too. They grew three times the average size and formed a second pair of front legs, wings, hell any appendages they were already born with. Now its all vast forests, twisting jungles, rolling valleys, towering mountains and golden deserts. No talented painter could ever hope to capture the raw majesty of the landscapes here._

_But where there is the beauty, there is also the ugly._

_Earthquakes were frequent, nature fitting together what must unite, and flourishing what must separate. Hundreds of thousands died, Human an Alien alike, the casualties were the same._

_No one could stand against nature's wrath._

_Then. The Earth settled._

_At peace with her creation's second chance at life, the earthquakes stopped. The Humans built a vast city and called her Earth Town in the desert, knowing full well that Earth was wild and free once again. The Alteans crafted a pearl and marble utopia a week behind a knife-edged mountain range on the cusp of the Wilds after the war. The Empire retreated to the icy wastes of mountains._

_There was once a time where the Galra and Alteans were allies. Brothers in arms. Loyal. Honest. But the Galran home planet was split by a rift in the planet's crust. King Alfor didn't have a choice but to evacuate the citizens to the ships and destroy the planet, using an organic weapon named Voltron. Zarkon wanted blood. War raged on for another ten thousand years, drenched in blood and fear._

_Alfor sacrificed himself saving his daughter and husband. A rebellion rose within Empire walls, Zarkon was decapitated on his throne, and his mistress burned up from the inside out. The Empire imploded, tearing itself apart and retreated, never seen again._

_The fear turned to victory then to hatred. Where ever Alfor was now, he'd be immensely disappointed and angry at his people's idiocy. They were now as bad as the Humans. But like the Humans, there were those who wanted to unite with the Galra to make a world of love and freedom. A slow, exhausting process, but sure and determined._

_..._

Keith sat on a rock plate in the middle of a wide, open plain, tall soft grass swaying in the early morning breath. The sun's beams of light peeked through the tree trunks, warming parts of the Galra's face and side.

He spread out the map before him and pinned the corners with rocks. The events with the Wolf left him feeling,  _lost_ almost. He never had a friend before, to tell stories to, to entrust with his thoughts and secrets with, someone who wants to know more about him, yet will give him much needed space, and he will do the same.

Keith will admit he missed the canine. He felt there's more to the fur and tail than meets the eye, he wished he could understand wolf and ask what had been done to make him like that. If they ever meet again, he hopes greatly to-

A splashing sound reverberated in his ear, loud and hasty.

There's a wide, deep stream running along the tree line closest to his spot, the soft sloshing of liquid on rock a relaxing lullaby. Now there's a boy of dark skin and light hair, wearing a tunic and knee length shorts of warm blue, hiding behind a rock and squinting at Keith with exagerated suspicion. Keith's ear flicked in irritation.

By the translucent, pointed wings on the kid's back he'd be Water Sprite. Relatively harmless until you give them a reason to hurt you. And they hurt viciously.

"That _thing's_ looking at me Hunk. You think it'll run away if I go up to it and show who's boss?"

"Lance if I wasn't your friend I'd let you go and get yourself torn to shreds by an angry Galra. But I am your friend so I implore you that you don't even try to get near 'em."

There's a Centaur also hiding behind the rock, his massive bulk easily spotted from a mile away. Whoever these two were they'd be stupid to even try to fight with him. Though from past experience, Keith would be stupid to judge a book by it's cover. This odd pair are neither threat or ally, but from the Sprite's eagerness to start a brawl, Keith is leaning toward more threat. He went back to reading his map.  _Gods_ these things are old.

"Don't worry my bro! I'll teach it a thing or two about trespassing, and then we'll be fine," the Sprite insisted, full of confidence and energy.

The Centaur made a wounded squeak, "Lance, please try to understand this; If you fight a Galra, you're going. To. _Die._ " The Centaur, Hunk, spaced the words with his hands, his dark tail swishing nervously behind him.

 _"_ And stop calling them an "It," how would you like it if someone didn't like the look of _you_ and wanted to fight?" At least he was smart, unlike his companion. "But everyone likes the look of me," he sassed the Centaur. Hunk breathed in deeply in great frustration, willing his urge to grab the Sprite by the shoulders and  _shake._ He glanced at the newcomer once and saw dark purple flames burning hot and wild in their eyes.

Now Hunk has many moments where he genuinely feared for his life.

_Now?_

Their going to die.

And it's all Lance's fault. Because that Galra looks like an angry black lion with a wicked knife and sword at their belts.

_Sweet Goddesses above and beyond please save my really stupid crush from killing himself._

"He's right, Lance. Judging by the muscle mass and the way he carries himself, I'd say you'd barely survive the first round,"  _Thank you Pidge!_ The 'Pidge' was a small, light brown haired girl wearing simple green Alchemist robes holding a short wood staff.

Lance rounded on his comrades, "Who's side are  _you_ on?!" he raged, "Not yours," Pidge snarked and it escalates from there.

Hunk hid his face in his hands in despair; With the way these two were going, the Galra would come over and kill them all for peace and quiet.

Keith was both amused and annoyed. Clearly the longer he stayed the louder the pair would argue about his presence. He gathered up his maps and threw his pack over his shoulders, taking slow careful steps so not to draw attention.

"Their leaving!"

Fuck.

"NO! Lance! There's a better way of addressing the issue!"

"Hey, cat face! I've got a bone t'pick with you!" The loud youth yelled as he marched to where the Galra stopped. Keith faced him head on, hand on the hilt of his knife, feet apart.

The Sprite was a couple of inches taller, and Lance took full advantage as he got all up in Keith's face. "You bastards think you can just go _wherever_ you want," he stabbed a thin digit into Keith's collarbone, "Well let me tell ya, _buster_ , I ain't gonna stand for it anymore!" Lance stepped back and spread his arms out wide, "I want a duel! Winner take's all, start when you're ready!" Keith braced himself, hands fisted and raised. Lance charged at him with a dramatic battle cry, found himself being pulled forward and his world turned upside down, slamming hard back first into the ground, a bare clawed foot pressing firm on his windpipe. The Sprite grappled helplessly at Keith's ankle but he stood colder than rock.

The eyes of raging violet fire burned right into his soul.

Lance gulped audibly, thick tendrils of cold fear gripped hard on his spine. The Sprite's comrades were shocked to silence.

"You have spirit. But lack caution," Keith removed his foot from Lance's throat. "Your over confidence will kill you, someday."

Hunk's vocal cords resumed working, not very well however. "W-what's your deal, man?! Lance d-doesn't mean any harm, y-you didn't have to go  _that_ far!" The Galra shifted his gaze to the Centaur, "Well then, I apologize for defending myself against this imbecile and for making him look weak in front of his lackies," he ripped a wicked looking knife from his waist and twirled it between his fingers, "But where I come from, it is survival of the fittest," the Alchemist was glaring at him hatefully, clutching hard at the Centaur's large hand as if to restrain herself from throttling the Galra herself.

Lance groaned in pain, searing hot patches of protesting muscles shrieked at being used so soon. Head was throbbing like drums beating too close to his ears. That cat eared fucker was going to regret ever crossing him! He wobbled awkwardly to his feet swaying like he was drunk, "I want a rematch!" He growled.

Keith sheathed the knife, "No." He marched past the stunned Sprite, took his pack and walked away. Lance splutterd with rage, "Y-you can't do that! I demand a rematch!" The other man ignored him, hopping over a particularly large tree root and disappeared from site.

Lance snarled through his teeth,"Hunk! Pidge! We're going after him!"

The Alchemist gawked at him, "Did you break your head?! You can't actually be serious!" Lance's ocean blues turned colder than ice, "I'm going to get my revenge on that prick if it's the last thing I do!" Hunk tugged at the Sprite's tunic, "Buddy, please you're better than this!" But Lance was already bounding off in to the woods after him, angry determination written plain as day on his face.

Pidge sighed long and irritated, "C'mon, let's go," Hunk helped her up in his back, and with careful steps they followed suit.

 

...

 

He could hear four heart beats tailing him. The closest is the Sprite, fluttering hard and fast with anticipation, the two further back beat not as strongly, but still quick with anxiety. The last one confused him; steady but skipped occasionally. It sounded familiar.

Leaping and bounding over tree roots and shrubbery, he felt more alive then ever. The trees looked so temping to climb, the sun beaming through gaps in the leaves would be heavenly during a cat nap. Even though _he_ was the one being chased, Keith felt like a predator. His calves burned his lungs ached and he was starting to slow down with how fast he was going and it felt  _great._

_Freedom._

 

...

 

Lance was  **not** going to stop! Not now! Not... going... to slow down...

The momentum he built in his feet slackened, toes catching on a root and he went down like a great pine, face first into the dirt. "Gods, Lance! If you keep this up you'll give me a heart attack!" Hunk panted, trotting carefully between the roots, Pidge holding fast to his dark mane and quietly judging the Sprite immensely. Said Sprite scrambled on his hands, spitting out bits of earth and grass before bounding off again.

The Centaur groaned, wiping both hands down his face, "I hate it when he gets like this," Pidge nodded in agreement, tugging on the thick mane gently, "Lets keep going. I don't like thinking about cleaning up his remains today."

They found both Lance and the Galra, brawling like wolves over new territory. Hunk winced when the purple skinned man was centermetres away from tearing a chunk of flesh from Lance's face with his sharp teeth. The Alchemist hopped down from Hunk's back and they both got close enough to get their hands under the Sprite and yank him away from the fight.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Lance yelled, struggling to escape their grip on his arms, "Saving your life!" Pidge yelled back.

Keith was breathing heavy through his fangs, a slash ran down the side of his face leaking blood, the thick dark liquid dripped off his chin, his left ear was nicked.

The dark skinned boy stole his knife, gaining advantage against his teeth and claws. The bushes rustled to the far right of him, the fourth heart beating in that exact location. It moved from the side to right behind him, officially surrounding him.

Great. No choice but to fight. If Keith wins, he'd tear apart a family, but if the Sprite wins he'd be dead and he'll never see more of what the Wilds has to offer. If he escapes to the side he'd abandon his mother's knife, he refuses to let Lance take possession of his mother's prized weapon. It's all he has left.

Rage boiled in his veins. This freak deserves punishment for his humiliation! Lance felt a burst of energy in him, and he tore himself from his comrades and lunged for Keith, Keith's own weapon poised to maim. Keith dove to the side and tackled Lance, rolling them over and throwing the Sprite to the ground in one fluid motion, hand tight around the Sprite's throat. Lance saw an opening and drove the knife into Keith's thigh, the Galra hissing harshly. Lance threw him off and made to attack again when something chomped on his collar and tossed him to the side like a ragdoll. He grunted when he hit the ground and staggered to his feet, but the site of an enormous Wolf standing above the Galra and baring it's canines in a growl made the Sprite freeze to the earth.

Keith too was shocked. The very same wolf he saved followed him, and saved him, and is now protecting him. He laughed a little at how completely surreal this whole situation is. But he truly was glad to see this incredible creature again. It would be sweeter under less dire circumstances.

Hunk made an inhuman shriek, and would've fainted if Pidge wasn't pulling him between the three. "Alright! That's enough!" She snatched the knife out of Lance's slack grip and threw it over to the pair across the glade. "Take your stupid knife and get lost! And don't ever come back to this part of the river again!" She shouted at them. "Yeah! Never come back!" Lance parroted. She threw a harsh glare over her shoulder and the Sprite wilted in fear.

Keith couldn't agree more. He stood with shaky legs, and growled loud in his throat at the sheer heat in his thigh where Lance stabbed him. The Wolf whined in worry, nudging Keith to use him as a crutch. He clutched hard on the animal's black mane for balance, black spots popping in his vision, breathing came in short bursts, sharp and hot and too much.

It didn't take long before he passed out from sheer exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by a wannabe author with a dream to be recognized, slowly, surely, better than before, and with some music (Please look up Marcus Warner) playing in the background. Hope you guys like this one!


	6. Not a chapter!

So I haven't been feeling anything for this fic. I cannot continue cus I don't know how I'm gonna put in details and emotions and perspectives of the characters in a way that's relatable and stuff. So I'm gonna let this little birb go and move on to fresher pastures. I'm gonna need a beta human thingy to help along with emotions and perspective cuz I can't write that shit to save my worthless life. I'm not deleting the story incase you guys still like to read it and stuff.

Fare farren all!

-Grimm

**Author's Note:**

> I need a life.


End file.
